


Always be Mine

by orphan_account



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Descriptions of Dead, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Descriptions of Bodies, Possessive Behavior, Strange and Heavy Plot for Porn, Takes Place After the Weapon has Fired, Villain Won, implied emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lumiose City stayed much the same. Its streets so full of people and yet, a gruesome contrast, so devoid of life. Augustine felt like a visitor to a grim display of statues. Each one showing the final moments of life for the citizens of Kalos. Stone-like faces that were locked in panic and trapped forever in those forms. All of it because of the actions of one man who gained the power to end it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.

     It was so eerie really, walking the streets that were once so full of sound without any of the usual and expected ones to strike the ears. There was only the sounds of shuffling steps his feet made against the set stone. The dragging noise could be heard clearly, nearly echoed in enclosed walkways, by those who could still hear. The only thing that Augustine heard was the thudding of his own heart beating out a dismal drumming. That was all he could focus on with blood rushing up to his face, flooding his ears with building blood pressure and flashing his cheeks with wave after wave of sudden heat. It wasn't from anger, though perhaps it should have been. Instead it was a fear that struck him. It was a fear that begged his eyes to remain locked at his feet as he walked. Yet, for it was his own forced punishment, his gaze rose to see the extent of the damage around him. Lumiose City stayed much the same. Its streets so full of people and yet, a gruesome contrast, so devoid of life. Augustine felt like a visitor to a grim display of statues. Each one showing the final moments of life for the citizens of Kalos. Stone-like faces that were locked in panic and trapped forever in those forms. All of it because of the actions of one man who gained the power to end it all.

     Augustine didn't dare even touch a single still form. Not even to weakly brush his fingers across one of the victim's frozen face. He feared even the slightest touch would crumble them to dust. If only he hoped and begged so strongly, there was a way to set everything back. If only, he nearly wanted to breakdown and wail, there was a way to make them all live again. Instead there was nothing he could do for them now and he could only guide his way through the maze of frozen bodies and be reminded that he hadn't been strong enough to possibly save them from their fate.

"I was in denial," He whispered shamelessly to no one who could listen, "I never thought he would do this."

Through the sea of grey that covered the city, dots of red caught his eye. He knew they were watching him, those that pledged their loyalty to Lysandre. They were always watching him. It wasn't as though he had anywhere else to go in the world. Everywhere he might choose, he would only be met by more people that were now still and cold like stone. For that reason he quickly learned to ignore their prying stares and careful tracking of his movements. He knew very well what their sightings meant. Lysandre was calling for his company.

     It was a call that never went unanswered for long. Before, such calls were met with joy and excitement, but now they were only met with the desperate need for familiar company. Lysandre was always precious to him, loved by him. That same man who returned those affections also was the cause of stripping Augustine of everyone else he had ever held dear. It filled him with grief for those he lost and what Lysandre had become.  In the end though, Augustine couldn't ignore Lysandre's summons. In a world of now so few, Lysandre was all he had. So he appeared before him just as loyal as those that wore Flare's uniforms. Lysandre presented himself like a man who had just obtained the greatest victory. Leaving Augustine feeling like he was meant to take on the role of loser in return. Though he mournfully reasoned that the real "losers" in the game were the countless people that stood frozen in their final moments. Augustine felt lost in between not having been one of Lysandre's victims but not being able to share in his triumph. The more Lysandre practically glowed and celebrated, the more it left the once-Professor tasting his failure rise in his throat.

     The vast room they met in was one that Augustine was well accustomed to. The windows were tall and towering, but hidden behind thick curtains all trimmed in gold. The beveled ceiling drew the eye to a central chandelier whose light remained dimmed in the space. There was numerous original paintings, all painstakingly done by hand by long dead artists. They were hard to make out in the current light, but Augustine knew each and every one by heart from various evenings left to admire them. Even though Lysandre preached against greed, he was never shy in owning some of the best money could buy. His home in Lumiose City being of the type that Augustine would have once dreamed about in his youth. Though knowing what he did now, such a space held little magic for him. The dim light managed to illuminate the richly papered walls and draping curtains. Casting the room in a reddish glow that may have meant to be sensual, but instead filled the space with a sense of dread. Lysandre lounged like a proud Pyroar on his large upholstered couch. He could nearly blend into it with it being as black as his usual attire. Free of his famed jacket however, he stood out like a smoldering flame among charcoal. With a single curved finger he beckoned for Augustine to approach him further. His velvet voice attempting to soothe, _"Augustine,"_ He began, each syllable spoken with growing huskiness and need, "come."

     Augustine's eyes followed the vibrant inseam of his pants as long legs parted and paired with a hooded gaze he was beckoned again. It was clear was wanted of him with the way Lysandre made room on the plush carpet before him. And despite all better judgment that would have screamed against such actions, Augustine crossed the room to meet him.  Lysandre's lips curved into a smile at how Augustine knelt onto the floor in front of him. The once-Professor met the Flare Leader's lust-filled gaze and with but a nod his hands worked mechanically at Lysandre's belt and zipper. Already his cock was hardening and straining against fabric and once Augustine freed it from its confines it was flushed and heavy in his grasp. It would have appeared that Lysandre was eager for Augustine's touch, quite eager for a prize for everything he had been successful in. What better prize could there have been for the Flare Leader than the entire world for his chosen people? Oh, but the world to be finally free of those that tarnished its beauty with war and greed was the expected outcome. A wonderful accomplishment, but not seen as a prize truly. What Lysandre really wanted now that his plan was complete was for Augustine's unquestioning devotion to him. He wanted no fear to remain that Augustine didn't wish to remain by his side.

    There were whispers, careless gossip and chatter, that Augustine owed him for allowing the man to join the chosen members of the living. Though Lysandre would never say that Augustine owed him for such a thing.  In a way, without Augustine he might have not achieved his goal so flawlessly. Without the teachings and guidance , he may have never gotten to be so strong with his team. If anything, he felt like he owed the Professor for sharing his exceptional knowledge on Mega Evolution. However, where Lysandre saw only perfection, Augustine could only see failure for not reading into the warning signs sooner. He believed that Lysandre had the power and drive to do incredible things for the world. All he ever wanted and wished was for him to be great, and great he was. Praised like a hero and a savior of the future by his people. All Augustine could see behind his vivid stare was the clear image of a monster he felt he helped to create. And yet he knelt before him in the end like a king, eager and desperate to please him to no seen end. Lysandre infected him like a great disease, weakening him every time they touched. He was all Augustine had left now, the only speck of the time before. In those moments in the dim light he could forget the world outside, shut away and hidden by thick curtains. As his hands worked to stoke and squeeze Lysandre's length steadily, he knew he just didn't want to displease him.

     A gasp, a pleasant groan, they escaped the Flare Leader's lips as Augustine's own circled around his engorged tip. His tongue darted fearlessly and knowingly just under the head. Striking a sensitive spot, sending sweet shivers up Lysandre's core. His hands came forth and tangled into thick curls, urging Augustine to take him deeper. As pleasure grew, Lysandre's nails dug and traced down Augustine's scalp and neck only to return to trace again. The feeling once one that caused moans from the smaller man that vibrated around  the entirety of his arousal. This time however, they only left paths that burned with desperate possessiveness and yet Augustine pushed out moans on cue regardless.

     He continued to bob his head with increasing rhythm, pushing himself to take Lysandre's cock as far as he could manage. He fought back the urge to cough when he felt the slight stretch at the back of his throat. Drawing back, he flicked his tongue and tasting the mixture of his own saliva and Lysandre's pre that formed at his tip, pulled away. The base was still held firmly, his fist resting against a well-groomed mound of hair as red as the hair that made up his wild mane,  and he gazed up for approval. A sound, nearly like a whine came from the other man. With hardly another moment to spare, his flushed tip met Augustine's lips again ,but this time Lysandre's hips thrust forward. He kept his thrusts shallow to not gag the poor man with his thick length. The image he was rewarded with was heavenly. Augustine's lips, soft, puffy, and deep pink, stretched over the girth of his cock while it slid effortlessly through them. Hair was flipped haphazardly over his eyes,  the rest still firmly held in Lysandre's grasp. Every time his hips drew back, a shock of pleasure made him shiver with how perfectly Augustine traced a path under his cock, following the ridge of a vein, with his hot tongue.

"Augustine!" Lysandre moaned out without restraint before parting Augustine's lips again. All he could do was respond with his own moans, all muffled by Lysandre's quickening, almost punishing thrusts. His fingers dug and gripped at Lysandre's thighs like a lifeline and his eyes squeezed shut. He was sure with each thrust he was becoming even more of what could be perfectly described as a "hot mess". His hair felt matted against his face and each thrust only served to cause him to drool more down his chin. Yet to Lysandre the image only continued to fuel him further. His breathing began to shutter with his cusp nearing. Hands fisted and tightened into Augustne's hair further, nearly causing him to yelp.

"Augustine!" He groaned out again as he thrust once more, his body rocked by his orgasm. Augustine felt each and every spurt coat his throat, giving him no option but to swallow. Each time he did it caused more gasps to escape the redhead. His cock was well spent and carefully withdrew from Augustine's tired mouth. Both men took a moment to breathe. Augustine to recuperate and Lysandre to enjoy his afterglow.  Soon arms outstretched and Augustine felt himself pulled up into Lysandre's embrace. He carefully and lovingly brushed Augustine's tangled strands with his long fingers. Then presented a handkerchief for him to wipe his face. Then they sat together, Lysandre's face buried in Augustine's finger-combed locks and arms wrapped around his slender waist firmly. The strange possessiveness  making a return.

"You're mine." Lysandre whispered and the words that were laced and coated with an illusion of sweetness caused Augustine's stomach to drop like a tossed stone. With a dry mouth and weak voice, he responded in the only way he could. With Lysandre being all he had left in such a small world, it was the only thing he could say.

"I am."

**Author's Note:**

> I will never admit to writing this on or off anon or anywhere else.


End file.
